


love is a ruthless game

by quakeriders



Series: feysand kinktober 2019 [7]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Alternate Universe - Office, Breast Fucking, Come Swallowing, Elevator Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hate Sex, Inspired by The Hating Game - Sally Thorne, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Office Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2020-02-04 17:59:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18609643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quakeriders/pseuds/quakeriders
Summary: Rhys keeps looking at her, smirking slightly when he places his hands right above her knees and roughly pushes her up on the table.or: in which Feyre and Rhys work together, hate each other and have sex. (aka: The Hating Game AU nobody asked for)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title inspo: state of grace - taylor swift

When the last person leaves the conference room, Feyre lets out a heavy sigh and brushes the fallen strands of hair behind her ear.

"What’s her deal?" She asks Rhysand, who’s on the other side of the room, still sitting in his original spot. He’s leaning back in his seat, looking gloriously bored yet smug at the same time. As always.

He gives her a small shrug. "We hooked up last week, now she’s aching for more and willing to do anything to catch my attention."

Feyre scoffs derisively. "Why? Because you’re the best fuck she’s ever had?"

She says it sarcastically, but the asshole has the audacity to nod. "In fact, those are the exact words she used."

Rolling her eyes, Feyre flips the lid of her tablet shut and stands up. "I’m sure she did."

At her tone, Rhys finally moves. He stands gracefully and gathers up the papers lying before him. "She also told me that I did more for her with a single finger than anyone before did with their whole body."

Ignoring the heat spiking in her blood at that comment, Feyre lets out another little snort and leans against the table to shoot him a glare. "I highly doubt that."

His body tenses and she knows that he’s heard the challenge loud and clear.

And she knows that he’s unable to walk away from a challenge.

Rhys’ hands wrap around the stack of papers, lifting them. He thumps them against the table twice to get them all neatly stacked and Feyre watches him do it.

She should be going back to her desk, but she’s transfixed and bolting out of the conference room feels a lot like admitting defeat in this new game they somehow started playing.

"Is that a challenge, darling?" Rhys’ tone is lower now, a hint of danger in it and Feyre tries to tell herself that the chill in her spine isn’t really there.

"Is it?" She replies, cocking her head.

Rhys drops the papers onto the table and then he’s closing the distance between them in three heavy strides. Feyre tilts her head back when he’s two steps away and looks into his face, raising her brow in question. Or a silent dare.

"Want me to demonstrate for you?" He purrs.

"I’m sure, I will be thoroughly underwhelmed after all that posturing." Feyre replies, praying that her voice doesn’t as sound as shaky as she feels.

Rhys keeps looking at her, smirking slightly when he places his hands right above her knees and roughly pushes her up on the table.

She has half a mind to brush him off, but the feeling of his fingers digging into her legs is enough for common sense to exit the room and leave her heart hammering in her chest.

Still, she knows the game.

And she won’t lose.

She steadies herself by placing her hands beside her on the table and lets him spread her legs wider. Then, she lets him push her skirt up. And when his hands slide up and between her legs, she lets him do that, too.

He takes a step closer, her now exposed thighs brushing against the soft fabric of his pants and she has to tilt her head back further to keep her eyes on his.

Somehow, it feels like they are playing two games at once.

Stop this and you loose.

Look away and you loose.

She’s intent on winning both.

The next time Feyre breathes, she gets a lungful of his scent and she almost looses one of their games.

His fingers dig into the soft flesh of her thighs and she can feel his callouses drag over her. The sensation is almost good enough for her to groan, but she forces her expression to remain unimpressed by his efforts.

Despite that, she can’t slow the heart beating wildly in her chest, neither can she hide the hitch in her breath when his fingers finally reach the apex of her thighs.

A triumphant half smirk plays on his lips when a knuckle softly brushes against the wet fabric covering her and she watches as his pupils grow impossibly wide.

Letting out a soft snarl, Feyre moves her knee against the bulge in his pants, silently telling him that he is just as turned on as she is and finding out that she’s wet and wanting isn’t a victory.

With his pupils blown wide like that, it mades his eyes look like a pair of black holes that are trying to pull her into their orbit until she’s unable to escape and he can devour her for the rest of eternity.

But Feyre isn’t some simpering bimbo to be completely dazed by a pair of pretty eyes on a pretty face atop a gorgeous body.

So, she raises one brow to remind him of the actual challenge and feels his lips quirk up further.

"Single finger." She reminds him when she can feel two of them pushing her underwear aside and he lets out a soft chuckle.

"Of course." He replies and it sounds like he too is out of breath, despite moving just his hands.

Indeed, she can only feel a single finger dipping beneath the elastic of her underwear and slip between her folds.

Their faces are so close together now that his forehead is pressed against hers. Yet, she doesn’t hear the soft curse he mutters, but feels it on her tongue.

His finger is soft and probing at fist. Exploring her wetness, collecting it and spreading it all over her. Her own hands slide forward to the edge of the table and grip them tightly.

Being the asshole that he is, he notes the movement and chuckles again. "Easy, darling. I barely even started."

She wants to bark at him. Tell him to shut up. But that would only make him think he’s winning.

"Oh, you started already? I hadn’t noticed." She manages to say, her lips brushing his and her tone a perfect mix of innocence and venom.

Her favourite combination when it comes to insulting Rhys.

He smiles at her wickedly and before she has time to wonder what it might mean, he pushes his finger into her, hard and fast. Her hands grip the table harder and a moan is torn from her throat.

"Sure you don’t want a second finger, darling?" Rhys asks, lips still brushing hers and sending her into a frenzy as that single finger curves inside her.

She swallows hard and shakes her head. "Admitting defeat already?"

His lips brush hers in a way that might be considered a kiss if it weren’t for the fact that they are Feyre and Rhysand. They don’t kiss. They just spew insults at each other from nine to five.

And then his finger is moving out of her again, straight through the middle of her and back to her clit. He presses down and begins drawing tight circles that send little shocks through her whole body and Feyre looses one of their games.

Her eyes fall shut as she lets out another moan.

"One down." Rhys mutters cockily, finger pressing harder into her, causing her to see stars behind her eyelids.

And she knows that he’s probably counting the seconds to tell her how long it took for her to come, but in that moment she doesn’t care.

That single finger isn’t enough, is enough, is too much and Feyre’s spine curves inward and her nails scratch the surface of the polished table as she breaks away from his face and throws her head back.

Her orgasm washes over her in waves, muscles pulling taut and relaxing again and again. And Rhys keeps that damned finger moving until she’s shaking and biting her lips to stop herself from screaming.

She comes again and once the fog clears, she hears his chuckle and it makes her blood boil for a different reason.

"Two in two minutes." Rhys says conversationally, though there’s sweat running down his temple and he’s a little breathless, too.

"Fuck you." Feyre bites back and shoves him away and smoothes her skirt back down. However, she doesn’t get off the table. She doesn’t trust herself to stand on her shaky legs, especially in those heels.

"I just did, darling." Rhys tells her and when he’s sure, she’s looking at him, slips that finger into his mouth and sucks on it. "Mmmh, delicious."

Feyre’s still panting, wide-eyed and filled with hatred and lust when Rhys turns his back to her and leaves the room. 

 


	2. kinktober, day 07

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **kinktober, day 07: office + tit job + hate sex + swallowing**

Feyre doesn’t think she can grit her teeth any harder than she already is. She types furiously away at her keyboard as Rhysand of all people is walking around with their new client, pointing out the important offices and telling him about the great work their company is doing.

She tries to block out the sound of his smooth voice coming from right outside her office but the sound of her name catches her attention.

"Ms. Archeron is actually one of our brightest minds. She singlehandedly saved our last project when she figured out that the presented lease for the building was a forgery."

Feyre raises her head and their eyes meet. He’s smirking at her, his violet eyes sparkling and the sight of him like that makes her want to run over there and choke him.

He doesn’t tell their client that Feyre had been the one to oversee the forgery in the first place and it feels like a taunt. A taunt that no one but she understands.

She stops typing and glares at him hard enough that Rhysand finally breaks, looking away and leads the client off to another corner of the office.

He doesn’t return until it’s time for lunch and when he does, he has the audacity to prance right into her office and lean against her desk, smirking down at her. "Wanna grab a snack together, darling?"

"I’m not your darling." She spits out immediately, spinning her chair around to face him. Instead of finding his face, she gets stuck on his wide chest covered in a light blue button up. Her eyes are drawn to the rolled-up sleeves that show strong arms, muscles clenched from where he’s leaning against the desk and she catches a peek of a tattoo he hides under his clothes.

Feyre sighs, tilting her head back and almost growling at the cat-like grin on his face. "Enjoying the view, Ms. Archeron?"

"Fuck you, Rhysand." Feyre whispers, with enough venom that would usually send off anybody.

But Rhysand is persistent. And seemingly immune to her particular brand of venom. He gives her a long look, eyes drifting down to the hem of her skirt and her legs covered in nothing but thin stockings.

"Is that an offer?" He purrs, so low that no one would be able to hear him. Even if they stuck their head right into the office.

Feyre swallows hard, remembering that day in the conference room a few weeks back. And decidedly not remembering the many nights since then she got off on remembering the way his breath had tickled her face, how his finger had felt against her, inside her—

She stands up abruptly, startling him and even herself.

"No." She snaps, reaching for her bag but freezing when she catches a lungful of his scent. It washes over her and sweeps away all the doubts and fills her with that hunger she wasn’t able to sate herself. "Actually, yes."

She straightens and catches him scrambling to hide is surprise. But once he collects himself, that smirk is back and he leans into her personal space. He raises an eyebrow and whispers, "Right now?"

Feyre doesn’t know what got into her. All she knows is that she has been cursing his name every night and can’t stop thinking back to his smug face. And that every time she looks at him, she has this irrational urge to repay him for the torture of having him in her thoughts and dreams all the damn time.

So Feyre strides to the door, shutting it. For a moment, she’s thankful for the lock on it and doesn’t think about what she’s doing or about to do and what it might mean for her.

Rhys is still standing where she left him and when she returns, Feyre places her hands on her hips and cocks her head to the side. "Well? Are you all talk or—"

He doesn’t let her finish. Rhys crashes his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply. Feyre moans as his teeth scrape over her bottom lip and he uses that to push his tongue into her mouth.

His hands are everywhere, sliding up her sides, running down her back and cupping her ass until Feyre is breathless.

Then she remembers that despite his exceptional skills, that this is Rhysand she’s making out with like a horny teenager and pushes him away.

He frowns, his breathing ragged and opens his mouth to say something but Feyre pushes him again until he relents and lets himself fall into her chair. The chair softly rolls back, hitting a filing cabinet.

"What-" He begins but shuts up when Feyre gets on her knees, pushing his legs apart and sliding into the new space there. She can admit to herself, that she enjoys shutting him up. It gives her a strange satisfaction to see him speechless. To see smooth, suave Rhysand who always has a remark ready for her, scrambling for words or unable to speak altogehter.

So, she goes for his pants, yanking his belt away and pulling out his already hard cock. For a moment, she’s surprised about his size but then she licks her lips and looks up at him.

Rhysand looks down at her, lips parted, pupils blown wide and somehow she isn’t ready to take him into her mouth. Even though she’s desperate to know how he tastes, she lets go of him to unbutton the top half of her blouse, not bothering to pull it completely out from where it is tucked into her skirt. She pushes the blouse back and halfway down her shoulders and slips the cups of her bra down to palm her breasts.

His eyes take in the sight of them, his throat bobbing and then his hands are covering hers. He tries to push hers away, tries to get to her breasts but Feyre leans forward and slips his cock between them, causing Rhys to let out a low groan and dropping his hands.

"Shit." He gasps, licking his lips and lifting his hips to thrust up, creating friction between them. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he gasps again, "Shit, shit, shit."

Feyre rubs her thighs together, satisfied that it took her no longer than five seconds to turn him into a rambling mess. Rhys fucks up into her breasts and when she dips her chin down far enough, the tip of his cock finds her lips, smearing pre cum onto her mouth and Feyre licks it off.

He groans again, his hands slipping up her shoulders, getting caught in the strap of her bra and her hair at the back of her neck. Rhys’ pace picks up and she sits up higher, back arching and leans down further, opening her mouth so that with each thrusts, she can catch his cock between her lips and lick the underside of it.

Rhys grabs the low bun at the nape of her neck and holds on tightly as he softly moans her name. It heats Feyre’s blood and she looks up to find him watching her, his expression reverent, with his cheeks flushed and those eyes drinking up the sight of his cock slipping between her breasts and into her mouth.

"Fuck." He groans, gripping her hair even tighter and Feyre wraps her lips tightly around him, not letting him go and sucks hard, twirling her tongue.

His cock pulses and then hot spurts of come fill her mouth and Feyre is almost greedy as she swallows the slightly bitter fluid that shoots into her mouth.

Rhys groans and once Feyre is sure he’s done she lets go of his cock and sits back on her heels. Rhys’ hands drop from her hair and he catches his breath as Feyre slips her bra back up and rights her blouse.

"I think that was less than two minutes." She tells him, her voice surprisingly even despite the aching wetness between her legs.

Once her blouse is back in its place, she stands, grabs her bag and unlocks the door. She leaves Rhysand sitting in her office chair, flushed, breathing uneven and pants still undone and heads down for lunch by herself.


	3. kinktober, day 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feysand kinktober, day 9 (hate sex + wall + elevator)

A knock on her doorframe made Feyre look up. Her glasses slid down her nose, she lifted her hand to push them back up when she caught sight of Rhysand smirking at her.

"What do you want?" She asked, her voice tinged with a warning.

She shouldn’t look at him for too long, she had work to do and whatever was happening between them couldn’t happen. When his smirk grew, those sinful lips pulling up and revealing his white teeth, Feyre’s stomach clenched.

She was unable to look away.

"I just wanted to know if you want to grab lunch with me." He said, his shoulder leaning against the doorframe. He crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a slow, once-over.

Feyre pursed her lips. "Don’t bother with all that leering. I know you’re not here for lunch."

He raised an eyebrow, shifting on his feet before giving her a smile that was supposed to look innocent. "And what do you think I’m here for, Feyre darling?"

She gave him a flat look. "This isn’t a thing, Rhysand. You and I aren’t going to be a thing."

There was something in his gaze that sent heat down her body and Feyre pushed away from the table, taking off her glasses and placing them into the first drawer on her left.

"I was asking for lunch." He said after a moment. "I mean, I know it’s hard to think about anything else when I’m around, but I’d like your company while eating something."

Feyre rolled her eyes. She shut the drawer loudly, ignoring him. Then she reached for her bag and got up. Her eyes accidentally swept over his body and she almost forgot to take her next step.

He really was too attractive for Feyre to handle. It messed with her mind. And, the way he looked at her made her feel excited. She remembered his flushed cheeks, his parted lips and brushed the though away with a deep sigh.

"Fine, let’s have lunch."

He gave her a winning grin, offering his arm to her.

Feyre ignored it, slinging her bag over her shoulder and making her way to the elevator. She felt Rhys’ presence right behind her and turned to catch his eyes trailing down her body.

They got stuck on her thighs, right where the slit of her skirt ended and she watched as Rhys licked his lips.

The elevator doors opened with a ding and Feyre stepped in. She heard Rhys push the button for the lobby and then the old rickety doors slid closed. Feyre raised her eyes to check her reflection in the mirror but saw dark blue eyes instead.

Rhys was standing right behind her, his shoulders looking impossibly wider in the small space. Feyre turned around, her bag sliding down her arm until it rested on the crook of her neck. "Don’t look at me like that." She said, but her voice came out as barely a whisper.

His eyes flicked down to her lips, then met her own again. He purred, "Like what?"

Feyre’s back hit the floor with a dull thud. "Screw this." She muttered to herself before wrapping her arm around Rhys and pressed her lips to his. He let out a startled sound but then his own arms wound around her, pulling her close and kissing her like he was starved for air and she was oxygen.

Feyre’s back hit the mirrored wall of the elevator, the small of her back curling over the railing and she let out a small groan. Rhys stepped away, looking worried. "I’m so-"

"Shut up." Feyre snapped, twisting to press the red button on the elevator. It came to an abrupt halt, shaking as it did so and Feyre thought that Rhysand’s eyes were glowing.

She pulled him closer again, kissing him until she let her lips trail down to his jaw.

"I thought, we weren’t going to be thing." Rhys gasped, his fingers digging into her waist.

"We won’t be." She whispered back, loosening his tie and popping open the buttons of his shirt. She looked up at him and found him smirking down at her. Then they were kissing again, his own hands now between their bodies. "This is nothing."

She felt him unbutton her blouse, pushing it open and then his calloused fingers sliding over her collarbones, the tops of her breasts and down her stomach.

"I can live with that." He groaned.

"Shut. Up." Feyre hissed, taking his hands and sliding them down her body to the hem of her skirt. He got the message and as he slid his hands back up, he pulled her skirt up with them. Feyre went for his belt.

Rhys’ hands grazed her thighs, found her underwear and slid them down her legs. She barely managed to lift her legs one after the other, Rhys bending down to take them off as she reached into his pants, finger curling around his cock and stroked him hard and fast.

Rhys’ breath washed over her face and when he stood straight again, His hands curled beneath her knees and hoisted her up. Feyre let out a surprised cry, as her back was pressed into the mirrored wall, legs parted and Rhys’ cock pressing between her thighs.

"Condom." Feyre gasped, feeling him rubbing against her and then she was back on her feet. Rhys’ breath was harsh in her ears as he dug into his back pocket, flipping open his wallet. Feyre almost sighed in relief when he let the thing fall to the ground, holding onto a tin foil packet.

As he ripped the package open, Feyre surged forward, gripping the collar of his shirt and pulling it open. Her mouth pressed to his tattooed chest and she kissed and nipped at his skin until she felt his arm curl beneath her legs once more.

"You sure about this, darling?" Rhys’ husky voice whispered into her ear.

She bit into his chest in return, causing him to lift her up and pressing her against the wall.

"Answer me." He purred.

Feyre let go of his chest, looking up. "Stop talking, just fuck me."

Rhys’ lips met hers. The impact so hard and fast, that Feyre’s head hit the wall behind her. Their tongues met and then she felt Rhys pushing into her. She stopped kissing him, curling her arms over his neck to hold on as Rhys slid and slid into her.

"Fuck." Rhys groaned, stilling and letting out a rattling sound.

And then he began to move. Slowly at first, using shallow thrusts as his face pressed into her neck and his tongue licked a stripe up the side of her neck.

But when Feyre dug her nails into his clothed shoulders, his hips jerked forward harshly, pulling a moan from her throat.

Rhys chuckled and then he set a ruthless pace that had the old elevator groaning. Feyre didn’t care and neither did Rhys. He fucked her hard and fast, his grip tight and his lips soft. With the way he pounded into her, Feyre felt her release building. She didn’t think it would take long for her to break apart if he kept going like this.

So, Feyre dragged her nails up his neck and right into his hair. Rhys groaned, loosing his rhythm and blindly thrusting into her as if couldn’t get close enough, deep enough.

She pulled his face up, kissing his wet lips, running her tongue down his jaw and biting his neck as she held onto his hair and Rhys panted.

Rhys’ arms slid right below her knees, pushing her up until his face was level with her breasts and when he pushed into her that time, both of them let out a groan.

The new position made Feyre clench around him. And each time he bottomed out, fireworks threatened to explode behind her eyes. She knew she was pulling on his hair too hard, knew that her legs were clenched around his arms, but she couldn’t help it.

She was loosing control of her muscles and when Rhys’ teeth found her nipple through the soft fabric of her bra, Feyre came with a sudden cry.

She shook around him, clenching tight and Rhys thrust into her twice, before he too was shaking, his pace slowing. She felt his cock pulsing inside her, felt his hips grind against her, felt him groan between the valley of her breasts.

They remained like that for a few moments. Catching their breath, trying to control their bodies.

Until finally Rhys pulled out of her, taking away the warmth of his body and slowly lowered her to stand on her own.

Feyre tried to hide her shaking legs, as she pushed her skirt down. She noticed that her underwear was in the corner of the elevator. There was no way she would put them back on.

Rhys’ hands shook as he fixed his shirt, buttoning it up and straightening his tie. Feyre turned to look at the mirror to fix herself, too.

Her hair was a mess, her lips pink and swollen, cheeks flushed and eyes somehow brighter than usual.

"We’re still getting lunch, right?" Rhys asked, bending down and picking up her underwear. "Because I’m starving."

Feyre rolled her eyes at his suggestively raised eyebrow and snatched her panties up, shoving them into her back. Rhys just kept looking at her, even as he pushed the button to restart the elevator.

Right before they reached the ground floor, Feyre looked at him and grumbled, "Yes, we’re getting lunch." And then, under her breath she added, “Asshole.”

He still heard her and when he chuckled, Feyre tried to hide her shiver.


	4. kinktober, day 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feysand kinktober, day 14 (office sex)

Feyre’s eyes were burning. She had been sitting at her desk, reading through reports since she had returned from lunch. One by one, her co-workers had wished her a good night and made their way home. When her stomach growled in hunger, Feyre looked up to find the lights outside of her office to have been dimmed.

From where she sat, she couldn’t see anyone and a quick glance at the clock told her that she had stayed two hours longer than she usually did.

Not wanting to leave before she finished the last report, but also not wanting to starve to death, Feyre got up from her chair with a soft groan and hoped that someone had left something in the fridge. She promised herself, that whatever she found, she would apologise to the owner first thing tomorrow and buy them whatever she had eaten.

She flicked on the light of the kitchen, rubbing at her eyes, careful not to smear her make up and opened the fridge.

She let out a deep sigh, when a meagre sight greeted her.

There was butter, milk and - Feyre’s heart missed a beat - a cup of fruit yogurt.

She almost let out a whoop of joy, reaching down and picking up the cup. The sticker on top transformed her cheerful smile to a frown.

_Rhysand_

"Of course." She muttered to herself. For half a second, she debated putting it back but maybe she could just not tell him that she had eaten his yogurt. She would come in earlier tomorrow and replace the cup before he had the chance to see it.

Yes. That would work.

She didn’t want to tell him that she was eating his food. She actually didn’t want to talk to him at all. Not when each time she looked at him, she felt like her whole body had been drenched in oil and someone had thrown a match at her.

Not that she didn’t think of him. All. The. Damn. Time.

After that day in the elevator and that entirely too polite lunch, she had promised herself to stay away from him. He was arrogant and annoying and she did not want him to think that Feyre was thinking about him.

She didn’t want to add to his enormous ego by hooking up with him every chance she got. Which made her leave almost any room that he entered once it wouldn’t look suspicious.

Feyre sat down on the rickety table and began eating the yogurt. It was mango flavoured and she let out a low hum of satisfaction as she swallowed her first mouthful.

"Well, well, well." Rhys purred, causing Feyre to choke on the yogurt and whirl around.

He was leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and lips pulled into a sarcastic smirk. "I think that one is mine, darling."

Her throat burned. She swallowed again, coughing and tried to ignore her racing heart. She felt caught and did the only thing she could when feeling backed into a corner. She attacked. "You scared the shit out of me, Rhysand."

He let out a soft laugh, pushing off the doorway and sauntering towards her.

Feyre watched him move, taking in the sight of him. The top buttons of his shirt were undone. He had rolled up his sleeves and his hair had a distinctively tousled look to them as if he had run his hands through them again and again.

And just like hers, his eyes were bloodshot and tired.

"Usually women get very exited when I show up were I wasn’t supposed to be." He told her, his tone soft and conversational. But then he swooped down, slipping the spoon from between her fingers and dug into the yogurt, too.

"Hey-" Feyre cried out. She almost told him that it was hers, but the sticky note with his name on it was right there on the table. So instead, Feyre leaned back in the chair, grumbling under her breath. "Asshole."

Rhys hummed softly and then the spoon was back in the yogurt. This time, he didn’t eat it himself though, he brought the spoon up to her lips.

Her eyes flicked up to him, brows low and lips pursing even more.

"Oh, come now, darling." Rhys purred. "Open wide."

There was something suggestive in his tone that made heat spread over Feyre’s face, but she opened her mouth. Slowly.

And when he pushed the spoon between her lips, Feyre made sure to lick it clean and groan softly as she swallowed.

His throat bobbed as he watched her. Then he dipped the spoon back into the cup and ate it himself.

He sat down next to her, his shoulder brushing against hers and then, he was feeding her another mouthful.

"I thought I was the last one here." Feyre said, watching him licking a bit of yogurt off his lips.

"Well, you aren’t." Rhys scraped the bottom of the cup and held the spoon up for her. Feyre leaned forward, closing her mouth around it and felt something smear against her own lips. She swallowed but before she could swipe her tongue over her mouth, Rhys had dropped the spoon and pulled her in for a kiss.

His tongue flicked over the bit of yogurt on her mouth, causing her to gasp.

Then he was everywhere all at once. Hands cupping her face, lips on hers and tongue meeting her own.

He groaned, slipping his hands down her neck, shoulders and finally wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer.

Feyre let him pull her, because the moment their lips had met, all her exhaustion had been forgotten. She felt hot and cold and breathless and as she sat on his lap, hips pressing down on him, back pressing into the edge of the table, she gripped his shoulders and kissed him back.

"What are you doing?" She whispered against his lips, her breathing already turning ragged.

Rhys slid his arms up her back, grazing his nose across her cheek and pressing kisses to her jaw. "What does it look like, darling?"

Feyre’s head was falling back, her eyes fluttering shut as Rhys kept kissing down her throat and his hands roamed over her back, pressing her closer to him.

"You want me to stop?" He asked, nipping at her neck and making her shudder. When Feyre didn’t reply, he whispered into her skin. "Well?"

"No." Feyre gasped, making the decision to just enjoy his touch.

Her hands slid down his chest and before he could press his lips back to her, Feyre fingers were fumbling with his belt.

"Shit." Rhys groaned, pressing his face into Feyre’s shoulder as she reached into his pants and stroked him.

Feyre pushed off from Rhys’ lap only long enough to slide her tights down to her knees and then she was back on him, grinding down.

"Slow down, darling." Rhys whispered, his hands steadying her by her hips. But Feyre didn’t care about taking it slow, she just pushed him by his chest and grabbed his cock with one hand and sliding her underwear to the side with the other. When he was aligned, she lowered herself down and both of them groaned as he bottomed out.

"Why?" Feyre gasped. She gripped him by his shoulders and began grinding down on him. Rhys slid one hand around her throat, stroking her jaw while the other slid down her torso and just slid her underwear further to the side.

Then his fingers were against her clit and he moved them in time with Feyre’s rocking motions.

The silent office was filled with nothing but their ragged breathing and the squeaky sound the chair made with each movement.

Feyre began moving faster and when Rhys thrust his own hips up, her core tightened and she dug her fingers deeper into his shoulders.

"Yeah, fuck, just like that." Feyre moaned and the hand around her throat tightened.

Rhys let out a long moan, rubbing at her clit harder and faster and her whole body tightened as her orgasm rolled through her. Her legs shook as she bit down on her bottom lip and Rhys kept fucking into her through all of it.

"Darling, I’m gonna—" Rhys choked out, the hand around his throat sliding down to her chest. Feyre dropped her head onto his shoulder, still shaking as she felt Rhys came inside her.

He stopped moving, his panting breaths right at her ear. His arm wrapped around her, slowly stroking her back until both of them could breathe properly again.

Feyre straightened up, blinking against the soft light of the kitchen and took in Rhys’ wide pupils. She stood from his lap with shaking legs and feeling a little awkward, she slid her tights back up and her skirt down.

"Feyre." Rhys said, leaning back in the chair as he looked at her. His face was so open and filled with an emotion that Feyre couldn’t name. He was usually so full of attitude and with a flair of superiority, but as he looked up at her now, Feyre’s stomach clenched.

She swallowed and took a step back. "I— um. I should go home."

Rhys lurched forward then, running his hand through his hair and licking his lips. "Let me take you."

He fixed his pants, standing up and looking at her like he wanted her to say yes.

"No, thanks." Feyre said, taking a couple more steps back. "Um. Good night."

And with that, she hurried back into her office and grabbed her things.


	5. christmas party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feyrearcherons on tumblr asked for a christmas special for the feysand hating game au and who am I to deny her?

Terrible Christmas music was blaring from the old speakers lining the wall. Feyre wanted nothing more than to go home and pull her heels off her feet.

But no, a few people in the office had the brilliant idea of throwing an office party two weeks before Christmas. And to ensure that everyone got into the spirit they decided to use their very own offices for the occasion.

So, here they were. Tinsel strewn half-heartedly over desks and filing cabinets, the worst kind of Christmas music and a couple tables pushed together serving wine, eggnog and a homemade punch that Feyre hadn’t even bothered to taste.

Most of her co-workers were clumped into small groups, chatting and laughing. Mostly, they had to be gossiping because nothing else could hold their attention for that long.

Meanwhile, Feyre sipped on her most recent glass of eggnog. She wasn’t trying to get drunk, but there wasn’t much else to do.

She had made the mistake of joining a group of women — including Ianthe — a few minutes earlier. They had been quietly talking about how attractive Rhysand was and how good he looked tonight.

It wasn’t like Feyre disagreed.

She just didn’t feel like talking to them.

Least of all, about him.

And as she listened to one woman talking about his tattoos, an unbidden thought had come to her.

What if she wasn’t the only person Rhys was sleeping with?

They were right. He was attractive and if even Feyre — who hated him — had somehow ended up sleeping with him, he could be getting it on with any of those women. Or all of them.

The thought didn’t sit well.

And so, Feyre had moved away from the group and now stood alone, brooding and drinking eggnog, even though she had never particularly enjoyed the taste.

It was funny how she seemed to be going back to things she didn’t really like lately.

Just as she was about to drown the whole thing and look for an excuse to leave, someone joined her in her lonely corner.

“Hello, darling.” Rhys said, his voice low as to not be overheard by passersby. “Not enjoying the party?”

She ignored him. Because now that she thought about it, she couldn’t stop thinking about how he must have been sleeping with other women. There was no reason for him not to. Not when Feyre treated him like an annoying fly most of the time and only sometimes pulled him into a dark, deserted room and indulged in what he had to offer.

“Feyre?” Rhys asked.

Still, she didn’t acknowledge him. She didn’t even turn her head.

But then Feyre felt him place his hand on her arm and when he whispered her name softly once more, she finally gave in and looked at him.

Ianthe and the others had been right. He really did look exceptionally handsome tonight.

A dark blue shirt, black tie, no suit jacket.

His eyes seemed to be glowing.

In an office full of sad decorations and crappy lighting, he was the clear stand out.

And Feyre felt like a fool to have fallen for his charm.

She could almost see Ianthe running her sharp nails down his chest and purring at him. See, how he would smirk back and hoist her up—

She stopped herself, gritting her teeth. “I’m fine. Don’t you have other places to be?”

“No, I’m right where I want to be. Are you alright?” He answered at once, causing Feyre to snort.

She drank the rest of her eggnog and pushed off the wall. “I’m fine and I actually do have somewhere else to be.”

Rhys didn’t stop her, but even as she walked away she felt his gaze following her.

Good.

She needed to let him know that he wasn’t the only one who could play this game.

Feyre picked up a new glass of eggnog and let her eyes slide over the crowd to find who she had been looking for.

Tarquin was chatting with Cressida and Varian, leaning against his own desk. She cut through the crowd, right towards them. Just before she reached their little group, Tarquin looked up and their eyes met.

His lips pulled up into a smile at the sight of her and Feyre couldn’t help but return it.

And if her smile was a little more coy than usual, well… that’s just how it was.

“Hello.” She said, not stopping until her arm brushed Tarquin’s. He seemed surprised at her standing so close, but then he shifted his body, leaning closer to her. Something in his light blue eyes changed as he took her in.

“Hello, Feyre.” He said. “Enjoying the party.”

Feyre shrugged, leaning closer. “Now that I’m in the right company, I do.”

Cressida made a face as if she’d bit into a lemon wedge and looked around. Then, with a mumbled excuse, she left them. After a few more moments in which Feyre just looked at Tarquin and he seemed too mesmerized by her to notice the unnatural quiet, Varian too vanished.

“I guess they don’t like me much.” She muttered, nodding towards where the two of them had been standing a few moments ago.

“No, it’s not that.” Tarquin said and his eyes dropped to where Feyre licked her bottom lip. “I think they just wanted to give us some space.”

“And why’s that?” She asked, lifting her hand to place it on his arm.

She watched as Tarquin swallowed, hard.

“Why do you think?”

They were standing so close that she could feel the wine on his breath.

But before she could reply, a shadow fell over them and both of them turned to take in Rhys, whose hands were in his pockets. He was smirking lazily at them, but there was a glint in his eyes.

“Rhysand.” Tarquin said, sounding like he’d rather not be interrupted now.

But Rhys barely managed a polite not towards him, before looking at Feyre and arching a brow. “I need to speak to you for a minute.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. But she really wanted to know what he had to say. Because, she had some choice words for him.

So, she gave Tarquin an apologetic smile, placing her glass on the closest desk and followed Rhys as he led her away from the festivities and to his office at the end of the hall.

He pushed open the door, waiting for her to enter first.

Feyre did and as soon as the door shut softly, she spun around and put her hands on her hips. “What is it?”

“Are you mad at me?” Rhys asked, stepping closer. “Did I do something?”

She scoffed, dropping her arms at her sides and fixed him with a hard glare. “Am I mad at you? I’m always mad at you, you’re insufferable.”

It seemed like he was trying not to roll his eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it. This is different. What’s going on? If you don’t tell me, I can’t fix it.”

“Why bother?” Feyre asked, her voice raising. “Why bother fixing it? Why aren’t you out there, buttering up someone else to fuck in the elevator.”

“What? He frowned, taking a step closer. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me I’m the only one in this office you’re screwing. I’m sure Ianthe is out there wondering where you went.”

“Feyre, no— wait, Ianthe? No, I would never.” He stumbled over his words, making a face as he said Ianthe’s name.

She glared at him, noting how he had stopped not a breath away from her. His smell once again invading her senses and then, he shook his head again. “I don’t want to sleep with anyone out there. I don’t know where this came from but I—”

Feyre didn’t let him speak.

Maybe because she had heard enough, maybe because she wasn’t quite ready to hear what else he would say. But, he was here, with her and so close and she wanted him. Wanted him to be closer, wanted him to think of no one but her.

So, she reached for him, pushing away the mental image of Ianthe in his arms and gripped him by his tie.

Rhys let out a startled gasp, but leaned into her as she crushed her lips against his and kissed him.

She let go of the tie, sliding both hands up to cup his face and deepen their kiss. Rhys’ hands wrapped around her, making her arch her back and pushing closer to him.

He let out a soft groan when she sucked on his bottom lip and a louder groan when her teeth dug in.

“Feyre—”

“Shut up.” Feyre gasped between kisses. She stumbled back, towards the desk. She slipped onto it, wrapping her legs around Rhys’ waist and pulled his face down to kiss him again. And again.

Rhys’ hands slid down to her legs, lifting them and rolling his hips against her.

Feyre bit into his bottom lip again.

He hissed and Feyre couldn’t help but smirk. She wanted to ask him if anyone else kissed him like that. If anyone else made him feel like this. But instead, she let her hands drift down, loosening his tie and unbuttoned his shirt in a hurry.

Whenever he took a breath to talk, Feyre crushed her lips against his, letting her nails drag down his chest until she began fumbling with his belt. But Rhys’ hands covered hers, stopping her and then he stepped away from her.

“As much as I’m enjoying this, I think we need to talk.” Rhys said, his voice hoarse and lips swollen from her many bites.

“I don’t want to talk.” Feyre shot back. “So, either go come back here or I’m leaving.”

He looked at her, bright eyes flickering over her face and then he nodded.

But instead of stepping back between her legs, Rhys dropped to his knees. With his shirt hanging open and his belt undone, he kneeled before her and gripped Feyre’s thighs.

She watched, her breathing ragged as her legs were dropped on his shoulder and Rhys pulled her to the edge of the desk. Her dress rode up as she slid forward and he slid his hands up her hips to push it up further.

She felt him groan at the sight of the lace trim on her stockings and then his face was pressed right between her thighs and she felt his nose grazing against her core.

Feyre couldn’t help it when she let herself fall back, using her elbows to steady herself. Her eyes fell shut at the feeling of his broad hands parting her thighs furter. Then two fingers slid over her underwear and she was reminded of the very first time he had touched her.

She let out a soft moan, the muscles in her legs flexing. The two fingers were gentle as they pushed her underwear to the side, barely grazing against her throbbing core.

And then she felt his hot breath on her and shuddered, biting back another moan.

At the first touch of his lips on her, her feet flexed, pointed heels digging into his back in an effort to pull him closer. A huffed breath was his only answer, before she felt his tongue, broad and flat, on her.

It was like she’d been set on fire. Or like she had been standing at the edge of a ravine and had suddenly toppled over.

Unable to hold herself up any longer, she dropped onto the desk, closing her eyes tightly and every once in a while she let out a sound that was caught between a moan and something more desperate. More urgent and needy.

Rhys’ tongue worked her open, pushing into her and then up all the way to circle around her clit. And just as she thought it couldn’t feel any better, she felt those two fingers back at her entrance.

Feyre sat up, head spinning as she couldn’t breathe fast enough. One hand slipped into his hair as she looked down, at how his hand gripped her thigh with bruising intensity.

His other hand.. The two fingers slipped into her, in and in until she could feel his other knuckles pressing against her. And when he finally began moving, fucking her with his fingers, he closed his lips around her clit and sucked.

That alone would have been enough to send her over the edge.

But then, still sucking, he flicked his tongue over her clit, again and again and—

Feyre threw her head back, her release making her whole body clench as she shook against him, into him. Rhys didn’t stop, he kept going even as Feyre’s moaning turned breathless, even as she felt her vision flicker.

He only stopped when she pulled at his hair, when she pulled him away from her.

His eyes were glowing, his lips wet and so, so red.

They stared at each other, Rhys licking his lips and Feyre trying to breathe.

Until, finally Rhys got to his feet. She could see his cock straining against his pants. She reached for it, but Rhys stepped away from her. Again.

“Listen to me.”

She had never heard his voice sound like that.

Low and urgent.

It made her shudder.

“I’m not sleeping with anyone else. I don’t even want to.” He said, stepping back between her legs. “I don’t know what happened that made you think that, but I need you to know that this isn’t a game to me.”

Feyre tried to look away. Tried and failed, because he raised a hand to grip her chin.

“I know what this means to you.” He said a small smile pulling at his lips, making Feyre swallow hard. “So, I think it’s only fair, that you know what this means to me.”

She couldn’t— she didn’t—

“I haven’t slept with anyone else since that day in the conference room. I haven’t even kissed anyone. And there was not a single moment when I wanted to.”

He looked at her, his eyes seemingly staring into her soul.

And she knew he waited for her to say something. Anything.

But she couldn’t.

So, Rhys gave her a small smile and let go of her chin. 

She watched in silence as he buttoned up his shirt and fixed his belt. “Enjoy the party, Feyre.” He said before slipping out of the office.

For a long while, Feyre remained there. Right on his desk, looking at the closed door and tried to wrap her mind around what he’d just said to her.


End file.
